


In Retrospect

by Abyssia



Series: Linhardt x Claude oneshot series [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssia/pseuds/Abyssia
Summary: Linhardt is finally moving in with Claude permanently. In looking through some belongings, they look back on their relationship since the war, and how they will keep moving forward.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/Claude von Riegan
Series: Linhardt x Claude oneshot series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601887
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	In Retrospect

Life is always a series of unexpected turns, as Claude keeps being reminded over and over again. After being allowed to flee after the battle of Derdriu, he hadn’t expected to be back in Fodlan so soon, nor had he expected to stay so long. But here he is, and here he has been. His claim to the throne hadn’t exactly been strengthened by what had resulted in a humiliating capitulation to the empire, and so Claude now worked towards his goal how he could. 

As Almyra’s new ambassador, he spends most of his time in the Capital, The Ambassadorial residence having been constructed along with the new consulate building. Never had such a structure been built in Fodlan, and frankly, he was more than happy to be apart of it.

The residence itself was built to be big enough for an ambassador and their whole family. But Claude had mostly lived here alone until now. Not entirely alone. His friends from Leicester would often stay with him. But on this day, yet another previously unexpected development is now coming to fruition.

Linhardt sits up at a desk, hair pulled back into a loose bun, half-moon reading glasses resting on his nose. His long fingers currently sorting through a box of files, making sure that nothing important got thrown away or lost. Claude sits on the floor amidst a circle of boxes, trying to do similarly.

This room particular had been used as something of a spare storage room for Claude, as his own office was elsewhere. But upon Linhardt finally deciding to move in, Claude was more than happy to clear it out. Among them, somewhat notably, was a not-insignificant collection of paintings.

The residence already had several pieces displayed, many by his old friend Ignatz, hanging in a place of pride in the drawing rooms and hallways. But, not every piece of art that found it’s way into Claude’s hand was, in fact, a masterpiece worthy of such an honour.

“The Battle of Derdriu,” Claude says as he looks down at the framed painting in his hands. It was not a day he looked back on fondly, despite the beautiful works commemorating it. And so, such paintings found their way into this spare room. “Do we even have the Ignatz original anymore?”

Linhardt shrugs, glancing up before going back to sifting through the box before him. “I’m sure it’s somewhere. Are you sure that’s not it?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure,” he says, looking at the painting. Ignatz’s original work, while influential, had not been the sole depiction of that day. Of course, artists from either side of the conflict would depict either party as more demonic or angelic depending on their views. But the particular emphasis of this painting stuck out to Claude for other reasons.

“If it’s just a copy, we can get rid of it,” Linhardt remarks. “I don’t know why people keep thinking to gift us copies,”

“I mean, in a way, it is when we first met.”

Linhardt sighs. That was true. While they had been vaguely acquainted during school, it had been that battle that had finally made them take the final leap.

Linhardt had been among the corps who went to help heal Leicester soldiers after their surrender. Claude, on his way to say goodbye to Edelgard and Byleth, had run into him.

What had ostensibly been a joke about them keeping in contact had then turned into a written correspondence, that now has resulted in Linhardt basically living with Claude for the last few years, and only now deciding to make the arrangement permanent. Their coupling was not surprising to any of their friends. Anyone who was close by when Claude received a letter, saw how his lips could not resist a smile the whole day; or saw how Linhardt tightly clung to and quickly disappeared to read Claude’s letters when they arrived.

However, to the populace at large, the Almyran Ambassador becoming romantically involved with one of the Emperor’s closest friends had been quite an intriguing tale. Speculation was always wild about the Emperor and her associates, and even in the brief time since the war, their exploits were recorded and depicted, and their personas influenced all sorts of art.

While Claude still gazes at the painting in his hands, Linhardt crawls over and digs out another one from the pile. “See? The original is right here,” he says, trying to get Claude to look. Claude does glance over but hardly seems to register it, back to the painting he holds.

Ignatz’s original work had been completed within the first year after Edelgard’s victory. It was a solemn, and yet deeply moving piece. Claude, knelt on the docks of Derdriu, his loyal Wyvern coiled behind him in a pose almost more symbolic rather than depicting how Khalilah had been truly behaving on that day. Indeed, she had snapped at their enemies and had needed to be held back by the members of Edelgard’s personal battalion. 

Where Claude kneels, Edelgard stands, with Aymr in hand, but held behind her, pointed away. She still stands tall, with several other commanders about her, but there is no hostility, no bloodlust. Claude’s face is upturned, but his expression is obscured as it hers. Their postures, and the embellishments, the colours of the scene expressing the confluence of relief and mourning that coloured that day.

These things however, certainly did not apply to the painting that Claude himself was absorbed by.

Linhardt himself had been present that day, but he is not obviously featured in the original work. If one squints, you can just glimpse him among Byleth’s battalion in the background of the tableau.

Edelgard’s ascension lifted the church’s limitations on technology. The once forbidden technology of movable type; while Rhea had feared it would incite rebellion; in truth, a large amount of what flew off the presses were things such as this.

Among the rumours that spread, had been about when Linhardt and Claude’s relationship had truly begun. Had Linhardt and Claude been lovers before the war broke out? Had they been forced to face their one true love in battle? Countless short stories and novels had been written, ranging from the purely speculative to the utterly fantastical.

“Claude…” Linhardt groans. “There’s no need to keep that one, I am telling you. The colour theory…among other things…” he says while carefully stowing the original Ignatz painting among the items they were deciding to keep.

Claude however, keep staring. This one, while not accurate, honestly holds some kind of deep emotional resonance to Claude.

In contrast to the original, this one features bright, vibrant colours. The faces of the people are distinct and expressive. Edelgard’s axe is instead raised, ready to strike. Some versions of the painting had Edelgard as a rather fearsome figure, but this one showed her face; and showed upon it, a moment of sudden hesitation.

Claude is depicted not as kneeling, but as collapsed forward, as if begging, grovelling for a pardon that Edelgard was not intending to give. Byleth is still present, but a bit more understated, behind Edelgard with her battalion. Linhardt however, is completely front and centre.

Claude reaches out a hand and traces over where Linhardt is depicted with his thumb. It is ridiculous, and completely inaccurate, but Claude finds it entrancing still. Instead of being lost in the background, as he had been on that day, Linhardt is instead kneeling in front of Claude, one hand over his back, the other stretched out to Edelgard to stay her hand.

“I thought you loathed to look back upon this day. It was your greatest and most humiliating military defeat after all,” Linhardt comments while leaning over close to his lover.

Claude’s lips form into a smile and he turns towards Linhardt. “Actually, I just think that you look damn beautiful in this one,”

Linhardt stares back at Claude, momentarily flustered. There were also countless variations on this particular interpretation of events, but Linhardt had to admit, this one was still rather skilful, and his rendered form was quite attractive.

“Claude,” Linhardt says. “If you so desire to keep a painted image of me. You can just accept my invitation to a couples’ portrait sitting.”

Claude’s shoulders stiffen and he suddenly puts the painting down. “Oh yeah that’s right, you wanted to do something like that, huh?” He stands up and runs a hand nervously through his hair. Linhardt joins him and walks up close behind him.

“Claude.”

“Yeah?”

“You needn’t deflect me with excuses. If you do not want to, I will stop insisting,” he says, taking another step forward to place a hand on Claude’s back. “But your actions keep telling me that you want something like that, so I am afraid that I just do not understand.”

Claude lets out a heavy sigh, turning towards Linhardt and slowly taking their hand in his. “Linhardt, I’m sorry.”

Linhardt presses their lips together, squeezing their fingers around Claude’s hand. 

Claude continues. “I want us to get a portrait together, I really do, I just—” Claude’s head droops forward and finds it’s way to resting on Linhardt’s shoulder. “We’ve been together what, 5 years?”

“Six.”

“Oh gods, our anniversary is soon isn’t it.“

“It is around this time, yes. Depends on when you want to define it.”

“Right,” Claude loops his other arm around Linhardt’s waist. “I just can’t keep from thinking. What if we break up. What if something bad happens, and that portrait only ends up causing you pain?” He gestures to the collection of artistic renderings laid out among their stored belongings. “Even if we try to keep it private, it will be speculated on, reproduced, altered. It will be a memory you can’t escape.” Claude says, his head lifting from Linhardt’s shoulder.

Linhardt lifts their hand and places it on Claude’s cheek. “And what of you, Claude?” Linhardt asks with those clear, straight forward eyes that always managed to take Claude off-guard. “What if I do something to hurt you, and the memory haunts you and follows you the rest of your days?”

Claude bites his lips but keeps meeting Linhardt’s eyes. 

Linhardt’s eyes drift downward. “I know by now that marriage is out of the question with you. Not that I was particularly fond of the idea myself,” Linhardt says. “But at the very least, it would be nice to have something to remember you by when you have to leave for work,” Linhardt shrugs. “And let us be frank, the likelihood that you will die before me in some kind of dramatic incident is distressingly high.”

Claude lets out a hearty laugh, pulling Linhardt a little closer. “Hey now, I definitely don’t have any intention of dying anytime soon. You know that,”

Linhardt’s lips turn down into a pout and they lean their head against Claude’s shoulder in turn. “I do.” Linhardt lets go of Claude’s hand and pulls him into a close embrace. “Well Claude. My feelings are that, it doesn’t much matter. That is only a hypothetical. Possible, but for the moment, I know that I want it, and well, I have wanted it for most of the time we’ve been together.”

“Ah, again. Sorry about that.”

“I think committing to a portrait sitting appointment with me will be more than enough of an apology.”

“Fair enough,” Claude grins down at him, both hands resting on Linhardt’s lower back. “And I am definitely not agreeing to this because I have forgotten about getting you an Anniversary gift.”

Linhardt rolls their eyes. “Of course not, the unmatchably intelligent Claude could never have permitted such an oversight.”

“Glad to hear that you have such confidence in me.”

Neither of them ever really put much into romantic conventions such as that. The way that their bond has formed and been expressed is always entirely their own. Something special, just for them, that a thousand artists and authors could never truly capture.

Claude is able to relax a little, fully let it sink in that it really is just the two of them. He rests his face against Linhardt’s shoulder. “I’ll sit for the portrait with you,” he says, the weight of his tone makes it clear how significant this.

Linhardt lets out a contented sigh. “Thank you,” he mutters. 


End file.
